Trae wanted the latter, so he kept going with his dad's plan.
This, in Rayford's way, was the point: to take his talented son and de-soft-ify him, so if some opposing fan base would someday chant "Trae Young sucks," he'd keep trying those zany shots.
Rayford told stories, and Trae described his entirely unrealistic goals.
Trae was in seventh grade when he realized dribbling was boring and shooting was fun.
Curry, an inch taller and 10 pounds heavier than Trae is listed now, was becoming an NBA star by then, his lightning-quick and logic-defying shots starting to upend defensive game plans and influence a generation of skinny flamethrowers.
In time Trae turned himself into a more well-rounded point guard, learning that dribbling and passing can be interesting weapons of their own.
She joined them and took note of which programs sent a single coach to watch Trae and which sent the whole staff.
His plan, all this time, had been positioning Trae for one eventuality: to someday join one of those giants and take steps he never had.